Authors: Richard North Patterson
Stifling his surprise, Adam said, ‘Still here? Were I you, I’d have taken this storm as a sign from God.’
She gave him a rancid smile. ‘
I
would’ve thought you’d be hearing my footsteps. George Hanley has become a friend. Once this blows over, your problems will only get worse.’
Adam opened the rear door and began loading groceries inside. ‘Someone’s will,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Monomaniacs always end up flying too close to the sun.’
She touched his sleeve. ‘Tell me what you did, and I’ll let your family off the hook. Or you can bring them down with you.’
Adam knew better than to believe that – she had already
set the wheels in motion, spurring Hanley’s call to Teddy’s lawyer. He turned to face her. ‘There’s no story here. So you’ll have to take your chances.’
The vulpine smile returned. ‘You’re forgetting Carla Pacelli. There will
always
be a story
there
, and someday she’ll want to help me. There are only so many people you can lie to, and only so many lies even a man like you can tell.’
Without more, she turned and walked away.
*
When Adam arrived at Carla’s place, he struggled to push the car door open against a heavy gust of wind. The skies were darkening; the forecasters were still uncertain about whether the hurricane would veer, sparing Martha’s Vineyard the worst, or visit the level of destruction that toppled telephone poles and power lines, beached ruined boats, and turned homes into junkyards of wood and waterlogged furnishings. It was fortunate that the guesthouse was in a clearing; there were no trees which, torn from their roots, were large enough to come crashing through the roof. But soon the massive power outages would start, taking with them the running water supplied by wells and pumps. This was no place for a pregnant woman alone.
Head down, Adam lugged the bags full of supplies and groceries toward the house.
Carla had left the door unlocked. When he came in, she rose from the couch with noticeable care, coming over to take a bag from his hand. ‘You’re good to do this,’ she said. ‘I can guess at how to cope, but this isn’t what I’m used to.’
Adam smiled. ‘No, it isn’t. In Hollywood, the toilets might still work.’
‘And these won’t?’
‘Nope. You don’t have city water here. Let me show you what to do.’
He hurried to the bathroom, filling the tub and sink with water. ‘Do this everywhere you can. In a while, it’ll be the only water you’ll have to boil eggs or flush the toilet. There are ways in which you really wouldn’t enjoy living with yourself.’
Carla gave him a droll look. ‘I can imagine.’
As she filled the kitchen sink, Adam laid out bottled water and cans of soup and vegetables. ‘With luck, the propane won’t go. You’ll have gas to heat those with.’
A burst of wind rattled the windows. Apprehensive, Carla asked, ‘How long could this go on?’
‘Unless this thing veers, the power outages will last for days. I brought a transistor radio so we can follow the reports.’
As he said this, the kitchen light flickered and went out. The lowering skies cast the pall of evening through the windows.
Walking carefully, Carla placed candles on the table and lit them. Adam watched her for a moment. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
Carla hesitated. ‘I felt some cramping this morning. I know that can happen, but it scared me a little.’
She was paler than before, Adam realized. ‘Then sit down. I’m staying here until this is done. I’ll take care of whatever you need.’
With palpable relief, Carla sat on the living-room couch, resting her head as she closed her eyes. Amidst the antique furnishings Whitney Dane had used to decorate, in
the flickering candlelight Carla resembled a woman in a daguerreotype from the nineteenth century. For an odd moment, Adam thought of Rachel Ravinsky, who would soon be living in the main house, and felt relieved she was not here. Then he turned on the transistor radio, hearing the crackling voices of forecasters speculating about the hurricane’s path. ‘Would you like a cup of soup?’ he asked. ‘It looks like you can stand to eat.’
Appreciative, Carla nodded. ‘I’m usually not this much of a wimp.’
‘You’re not a wimp, Carla – you’re performing a storage function. So take it easy. Believe it or not, I can weather this without your help.’
He turned on the gas stove, pouring the minestrone in a pot and stirring with a wooden spoon. Neither of them, he realized, wanted to broach the last time they had seen each other – the kiss, and the confusion that had followed, bringing the evening to a close. Then he noticed Carla watching him with a look of contemplation he could not quite read. He filled two mugs with soup and sat on the couch, handing one to her. ‘How are you feeling now?’ he enquired.
‘Grateful.’
She bit her lip, as though struggling with an emotion he did not comprehend. Setting down his mug, he looked at her inquiringly.
‘It’s not just the cramps,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve got good reason to be afraid of losing this baby, and never having another.’
Adam nodded. ‘I’d guessed that. What’s the problem, exactly?’
Distractedly, Carla smoothed her dress. ‘Heredity, to start. Before I was born, my mother had a string of miscarriages
– much to the displeasure of my father, who considered her defective. He never did get the son he wanted.’ Briefly, she glanced up at Adam. ‘Mom got pretty desperate. To prevent any more miscarriages, she started taking a drug called D.E.S…’
‘Didn’t they start banning that?’
‘Only after I was born. To be blunt, D.E.S. babies grow up with abnormally shaped uteruses. That further decreased my chances of getting pregnant, and increased the likelihood of miscarriage if I did.’ Carla resumed picking at her dress. ‘Not that I counted on that for birth control. But when I started taking the pill, I developed blood clots. So I had to use an I.U.D.
‘Bad to worse, it turned out. The I.U.D. led to pelvic inflammatory disease, which makes it still harder to get pregnant, and can lead to an ectopic pregnancy. I always found it ironic that someone who men purported to find so sexy felt like an extinct volcano. Imagine my surprise that – at least this once – I wasn’t.’ She gave him a fleeting, embarrassed smile. ‘So now you know more about my plumbing than you ever wanted to. But you can also understand how precious this baby is to me. However awkward the circumstances, he may be my only chance to become a mother.’
Instinctively, Adam felt for her. ‘What does the doctor say?’
‘To rest, and be careful. That’s why I’ve been tiptoeing around today.’ Briefly, she touched the back of Adam’s wrist. ‘You can’t know how worried I was before you called.’
‘My family can do without me,’ he said carelessly, ‘and me without them. So why don’t you finish that and go get some rest? If we’re about to get blown away, I’ll let you know.’
Carla looked relieved. Sipping the last of her soup, she slowly stood and rested her hand on Adam’s shoulder. ‘Go,’ he said in mock sternness.
In the doorway of her bedroom, she turned to glance at him, then closed the door behind her. Outside, the wind howled and whistled with new ferocity.
*
Adam lay on the couch, listening to weather forecasts cutting through the static. Near midnight, it became clear that the hurricane would veer toward the mainland, sparing Martha’s Vineyard. As the wind buffeting the windows became more fitful, he allowed himself to sleep.
Deep in the night, Adam awakened with a start, reaching for the gun he did not have. Disoriented, he stared into the darkened room, then felt his pulse racing and the sweat dampening his forehead. Breathing in, he tried to relax, even as he cursed his dreams. But when the bedroom door opened, he started.
In the candlelight, Carla crossed the room to kneel beside him. ‘What was it?’
‘Nothing,’ Adam said tersely. ‘Go back to sleep.’
Carla did not move. ‘You called out, Adam – not to me. You were somewhere else.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
Carla grasped his wrist. ‘I think you do.’ She hesitated, then said bluntly. ‘Ben had nightmares – bad ones. When he awakened, he knew exactly where he’d been. Back in Vietnam, reliving horrors that had stayed with him for forty years. All he would tell me was, “There are some things men aren’t made to outrun.”’ She placed the back of her curled fingers against Adam’s forehead. ‘So be fair
to yourself, please. Whatever they’ve taught you, you’re not a stone.’
Adam released a breath. ‘No, I’m not. But these are new.’
‘Can you tell me about them?’
Adam hesitated, caught between the iron rules he lived by and his desire, this once, not to feel alone. At last he said, ‘I’m either about to kill someone, or about to be killed. Christ knows why I’m having them now.’
‘Maybe because you’re going back. This job you have – it’s more dangerous than the one you described, isn’t it?’
For a time, Adam was mute, the words caught in his throat. ‘Much more.’
Carla nodded. ‘Can you quit?’
‘No. If I quit now, other people who rely on me might get killed.’ His voice hardened. ‘The Benjamin Blaine I knew was a heartless, selfish bastard. No way he wanted to go to Vietnam. But he didn’t run away to Canada, or weasel out of the draft.
‘In almost every way, I pray to God I’m nothing like him. But I signed on for this one, whatever the risks, and now I have to see it through. These nightmares are the price of self-respect.’
To his surprise, he could feel her irritation even before she said, ‘Too bad that I’ve quit acting. That line would come in handy in a war movie.’ Catching herself, she said swiftly, ‘Sorry. But it actually matters to me what happens to you, all right?’
Adam tried to smile. ‘Then I’ll remember to avoid any clench-jawed heroics. At least when I’m sleeping on your couch.’
Carla retrieved a candle, placing it so that she could see his face. After a time, she asked, ‘Once this job is over, will
your “company” send you somewhere else? Or will you actually make a choice?’
Adam had no answer. At length, he said, ‘Ten years in, I’m not sure what else I’d do.’
‘Maybe live a normal life,’ Carla responded with renewed gentleness. ‘That’s what I’m trying to do, and some days it feels okay.’
‘You were always a good actress,’ Adam responded, ‘because you inhabited your roles. I may not be quite as gifted. Anyhow, go back to bed. I’m fine now, and your current role requires resting for two.’
*
When Carla emerged again, the power was back on and Adam was gazing out of the window at a crystalline morning cleansed by the storm. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Better.’
‘Then we got off light.’
He saw Carla begin to say something, then think better of it. ‘Need to shower?’ she asked. ‘If you’re feeling grungy, you can always borrow my Lady Remington.’
Adam smiled. ‘Unless you have fresh clothes for me, I probably should get going.’ Then he realized that she might have men’s clothes there because of Ben.
She seemed to read his expression. ‘Anyhow, thanks for coming. And for staying.’
‘Sure.’ He hesitated. ‘If you run into a problem, are there people who can take you to the doctor?’
Carla nodded. ‘Friends from A.A., if I need them.’
‘What about when the baby’s born? Is anyone going to be there with you?’
Carla looked amused. ‘You mean like
there
, there? Back in
the dark ages, I’ve heard, women had babies alone.’
Adam shrugged. ‘My mother did, I’m told. I guess Ben didn’t want to be there. Understandable, I suppose. But not ideal.’ He paused again. ‘Maybe I’ll be back by then. I can’t imagine why mere childbirth would faze me.’
Giving him an incredulous look, Carla shook her head emphatically. ‘I won’t be at my most attractive, so don’t even dream of it. Besides, you’ve missed out on all the birthing classes they’ve cooked up to make fathers feel useful. Given everything that will be going on, I don’t feel the need to keep you entertained.’
‘I get that. But maybe you could draft a girlfriend. Given “everything”, as you put it, I don’t like to think about you being alone.’
Her expression became more serious. ‘Thank you for that. But in a lot of ways, except for the months with Ben, I’ve always been alone. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, just saying I’ll be fine.’
For a moment, Adam searched for what he wanted to tell her, then stood to leave. ‘Call me if you need anything, Carla. I’ll come by before I go.’
She hesitated, then came to him, giving him a swift, surprising kiss. ‘I’ll take that as a promise,’ she said softly. ‘Both of us will.’
The morning before he was to leave, Adam put on shorts and tennis shoes and began running along South Road, headed for Menemsha.
It was part of his routine, honing his endurance for whatever might happen in the field. He ran hard, as if he were being pursued; though the early morning sun was cool, he could feel the sweat clinging to his T-shirt. In the ten years of his exile from Martha’s Vineyard, spartan exercise had become like breathing to him, feeding his energy while allowing him to escape into a Zen-like trance. It was a metaphor, he supposed, for how he had chosen to live.
But today his emotions did not dissipate into the ether – Carla was too much with him. The questions Charlie Glazer had raised stung him, all the more so because he feared they might be true. It was his habit to avoid the darkest recesses of his inner landscape; his survivor’s instinct told him that no good would come of it. But, at least for today, his last
meeting with Charlie, he would confront them. If his life ended in Afghanistan, there really was nothing to lose.
*
Charlie Glazer was sitting on the porch with his usual mug of coffee, gazing out at the expanse of Menemsha harbour. When Adam loped on to the porch, he placed his hands on the railing, catching his breath and taking in Charlie’s view.
‘On mornings like this,’ Charlie remarked, ‘I feel like the luckiest man on earth. When I think about it, maybe I am. Start with the odds against being born, beginning with the cavemen through every man and woman who had to meet for any one of us to exist. Throw in the fact that my immigrant parents had no money or education, but that I was born into the American Century and educated at Yale. Then take this morning, as fresh as Creation, with me sitting in this place. I can’t escape the feeling that my life is a gift. Nor do I want to.’